


Edge of Apology

by inksheddings



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pot of coffee, a bottle of bourbon, and a situation neither Tony or Gibbs are sure how to come back from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge of Apology

"You're coming home with me."

Tony flinched. "Are you sure that's such a good idea, Boss?"

"It's that or we go to your place. Either way, we go together."

The look on Gibbs' face wasn't one Tony would usually argue with, but all he wanted was to go home, shower thoroughly, down a few Tylenol, and sleep for as long as he possibly could.

"Gibbs—"

"Tony."

Tony took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe Gibbs was right. Maybe it would be better to get this over with as soon as possible.

 

Tony had stayed his headstrong and biting self while the gun had been pointed at him. It wasn't until the gun was turned toward Gibbs that Tony readily sank to his knees.

"Sorry, Boss. And I really don't think Rule Six applies in this situation."

"DiNozzo—" Gibbs froze as he felt Tony's hands tugging at his belt. He ignored the gun to his head and the man holding it to concentrate on Tony. "Tony, you don't have to do this. He's not gonna kill either one of us if we don't do what he wants. It's not worth it to him. He knows we've got him dead to rights."

Tony's eyes were glassy, thanks to being pistol-whipped. Gibbs was more than a little worried that his compliance with Ensign Gruber's twisted idea of “payback” had a lot to do with a likely concussion.

Gruber laughed as he grabbed Gibbs by the hair and yanked hard. "Willing to take that chance, eh, Agent Gibbs? Too proud to get messy with your man?"

"Shut up, you bastard!" Tony ground out, his hands trembling but still working at opening Gibbs' pants.

"Tony—"

"Doesn't look like pride is _his_ main concern, now does it?" Gruber said, keeping a tight hold of Gibbs' hair.

"Tony, look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

Tony snapped his head up, grimacing at a move that must have hurt like a bitch. But Gibbs pushed that particular concern to the back of his mind and concentrated on reaching Tony. "Petty Officer Cable's diary is in McGee's hands, back at NCIS," he reminded him. It was true, and from what McGee had said during their last phone conversation, she'd intricately detailed the sexual extortion Gruber had put her through, even going so far as listing dates, times, and locations, as well as two other probable victims' names. Between her testimony and the diary, Gruber didn't stand a chance. "Gruber is done, nothing he can do to change that. You don't have to do this. Tony … please."

Tony laughed then, but it sounded brittle and it hurt Gibbs more than the hand threatening to yank his hair out by the roots.

"Now you ask nicely? But I can't take that chance, Boss," Tony said as he tugged down Gibbs' zipper.

 

Tony nearly fell asleep in Gibbs' shower. He'd sat on the floor of the tub and let the hot water beat down on his aching back and neck. It felt good, and between the heat and the cadence of the water it was enough to lull him into a strange sense of relief. They were free—of Gruber and the hospital—and, as far as Tony knew, Gibbs hadn't said a word to anyone about what had really happened in that deserted motel. Tony closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew the water was getting cold and Gibbs was standing outside the shower curtain, saying Tony's name.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Boss. But I think I used up the hot water."

"Don't worry about it. I cleaned up at the hospital."

Of course he did. The sooner the better, and Gibbs hadn't had a concussion to deal with.

Gibbs reached in and turned the water off. "There's a pair of sweats on the toilet lid."

"Thanks."

Gibbs shut the door when he left the bathroom, but it took Tony a good ten minutes before he could stand up and climb out of the tub. By then he was shivering and even the soft towels and warm sweats weren't going to help in any meaningful way.

 

When Tony first put his mouth on him, Gibbs shouted and tried to stomp his foot, kick out—something, anything—but he was thoroughly tied to the fucking chair and could only sit there and feel the slide of Tony's lips and tongue on his dick.

"That's it, take him deep," Gruber said, laughing, obviously enjoying saying any ridiculous thing in an attempt to further humiliate them.

Gibbs was going to kill the bastard. If it didn't happen today, it would most definitely happen eventually.

Tony gagged when Gibbs made one last, desperate effort to—hell, he didn't know what he was trying to do, but the choked-off sound brought Gibbs back to the reality of their situation. If this was bad for him, it had to be even worse for Tony. Gibbs stopped struggling and did his best to relax. While Gibbs didn't think he'd be able to get off—God help them both if he did manage to get hard—he wanted to make it as easy on Tony as possible, get this whole Godawful situation over and done with as quickly as possible.

 

It was hard to look at himself in the mirror, but Tony did it anyway. He was going to have one helluva bruise around his left temple from the butt of Gruber's gun.

He glanced at his mouth, wondering if he would see anything that might give away what he'd done. That's when he realized he hadn't brushed his teeth since—since ... well, since. Tony's heart started hammering, and he felt even colder as he hurriedly opened the medicine cabinet, hoping to find an extra toothbrush because Gibbs probably wouldn't like him using his own—and then the absurdity hit him like a ton of bricks. Why couldn't he use Gibbs' toothbrush? It's not like it would be any more personal than what he'd already had of Gibbs' in his mouth.

Tony didn't really have anything in his stomach worth throwing up, but he gave it his best shot.

 

"I'm so sorry, Tony."

Gibbs was growing hard in Tony's mouth, and while he knew—and was sure Tony knew—that there wasn't much he could do about his physical response, it still made him want to apologize to Tony every day for the rest of his life. Fuck Rule Six.

"Oh yeah. That's—that's it, yeah," Gruber crooned, and Gibbs realized that the asshole was getting turned on. Gibbs wondered if that might, somehow, give him and Tony an advantage. He still didn't think Gruber would actually kill them, but the possibility remained.

Gibbs tried to split his attention between the pleasurable sensations Tony's mouth was creating, allowing himself to harden further, and Gruber's reactions, hoping and waiting for a moment he could take advantage of. Gibbs felt the hand in his hair relax, and then, moments later, release. Gibbs could still feel Gruber moving behind him and he realized that he'd begun rubbing himself off through his pants.

Gibbs looked down at Tony, willing him to meet his gaze, but Tony had his eyes shut tightly. Gibbs thrust slightly into Tony's mouth, and that got his attention. He looked up at Gibbs, shock and concern on his face, but it did the trick. Tony looked past him at Gruber and then back at Gibbs. Okay, they could do this.

Tony increased his suction and Gibbs continued to thrust carefully into his mouth. From the sound of things, this met with Gruber's approval. The sick fuck was speeding up his hand.

Gibbs decided to take a chance and exert most of his energy on reaching orgasm, on giving Gruber just what he wanted. Tony was making it easy, making noises around his dick now, adding a hand at the base and sucking mostly at the head, licking at the slit.

"Jesus fuck!" Gruber yelled, and Gibbs heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper opening. "You two might think you've got me, but when I tell everyone what you guys did, getting off on each other like this—God, yeah, suck him harder. Do it or I'll blow his fucking brains out."

Gibbs still felt the gun against his head, but it wasn't pressed as hard. Gruber was losing focus the closer he was to getting off. Gibbs shook himself and got back to concentrating on Tony. Tony met his gaze again and winked before removing his hand and swallowing around Gibbs' dick and taking him down as deep as his throat would allow. Gibbs pulled himself forward as he came, and when he felt Gruber's come hit the back of his neck, he rocked back with everything he had. Tony pulled off of him just as Gibbs rocked the chair hard against Gruber, knocking him to the floor. Before Gruber could even react Tony was on him, punching him with a ferocity that Gibbs understood. Envied, even, considering he was still bound to the chair and would have liked nothing more than to beat the shit out of Gruber alongside Tony.

Gibbs looked around, his line of sight limited, trying to locate Gruber's gun. He hoped it wasn't anywhere near where Gruber could reach it. His heart sank when he saw that it was still in Gruber's hand—he hadn't actually dropped it.

"Tony! The gun! Get the fucking gun!"

Unfortunately, his words got through to Gruber first, and Gibbs watched in horror as Gruber attempted to bring it up and shoot Tony.

"Tony!"

Tony stopped hitting Gruber and made a grab for the gun, but Gruber rallied and managed to roll over on top of him. Gibbs lost sight of them both then, could only lie there, struggling against the damned rope as he listened to the grunts and groans, and then a single gunshot sounded in the room. Gibbs froze.

"Tony?"

Gibbs heard a shuffling and someone crawling toward him. "Goddammit, Tony, that'd better be you or I'll kill you myself!"

Tony's face was suddenly right over Gibbs' and he couldn't help it; he smiled in relief. Tony was smiling too, and while it wasn't bright or anything like happy, Tony was alive, and Gibbs would take that just fine.

"You do realize, Boss, that what you just said makes no sense whatsoever? If I was dead, you'd have to kill me?"

Before Gibbs could respond Tony was hauling him and the chair upright and untying him. It took some work, and God knows what Gruber had done with their knives, but Tony freed him and helped him stand up. It hurt—his legs, his back, his arms, everything ached—but he managed not to collapse. Gibbs looked at Gruber, lying dead on the floor with a bullet wound to the chest, his dick still hanging out.

Gibbs flushed and reached down to tuck himself in and zip up his pants.

"Sorry, Boss."

Gibbs wanted nothing more than to whack Tony on the back of his head for saying that and for looking so fucking contrite and guilty, but he couldn't bring himself to carry through. After what they'd just been through, it just seemed wrong. Gibbs grew angrier with that realization and wished he could kill Gruber all over again. Since he couldn't, he stalked over to the body and kicked it hard in the head.

 

Tony found Gibbs sitting in the kitchen. He was drinking coffee, the pot right there on the table, but there was a bottle of bourbon handy as well. Tony took a deep breath as he sat down and poured a cup for himself. He didn't really like it black, but Gibbs hadn't put out any sugar or creamer and Tony didn't feel like searching or asking, so it would have to do. Before he could take his first sip, Gibbs said, "Hold on there," and added a good amount of bourbon to the brew. Tony wondered if they'd go through both the pot of coffee and the bottle before the night was over.

Tony just wanted to go to sleep. Wanted to sleep and not dream, and to wake up and find out that all of _this_ had been the dream. He knew that wasn't going to happen, and he knew that Gibbs figured they had something to work out, but really, how the hell were they supposed to do that? Some sick fuck had convinced him to suck Gibbs' dick, and was there any way back from that? Tony didn't think so.

"I think I'm going home," Tony announced. He downed his cup of coffee, the burn as much from the bourbon as from the heat, and stood up. Too quickly, apparently, because his head swam and he remembered, _Oh yeah, minor concussion._ Probably hadn't been a smart move on Gibbs' part, giving him any alcohol, but Tony could cut him some slack for that, under the circumstances.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony said as Gibbs came over and kept him from hitting the floor.

"If you say 'sorry' one more time, I'm gonna lock you in the basement until you come to your fucking senses."

Tony didn't want to lean against Gibbs, but it was either that or fall flat on his face. "You know, I don't remember ever hearing you curse this much before."

"You looking for an apology from me now?" Gibbs asked as he steered Tony out to the living room and helped lower him onto the couch.

"You already did that, Boss."

Gibbs looked confused for a second, then his eyes widened and Tony figured he must be remembering what he'd said as he'd hardened in Tony's mouth. But the shock and regret was gone within seconds as Gibbs covered up with one of his patented glares.

"Then maybe both of us should call it even and knock it the hell off."

Tony just nodded.

Gibbs leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, Tony wondered if they'd just had their "big talk." That would fit—Tony getting dramatic and nearly taking a swan dive on the kitchen floor, Gibbs grumbling about basements and apologies, then the both of them ending up on the couch with no energy left to deal with much of anything.

Yeah, it fit.

Tony leaned his own head back and closed his eyes. He wished he had a blanket, but at least he wasn't cold anymore. He wasn't exactly toasty, though, and he wasn't stupid enough to think that what had happened to him and Gibbs wasn't going to seriously fuck them up more than they already were, but he sure as hell wasn't in any shape to talk it out now. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt a less-brutal-than-usual whack to the back of his head.

 

Gibbs left his hand where it was and let his fingers burrow through Tony's hair. He nearly woke Tony up when a flashback of Gruber's own fingers pulling tightly at his hair filled his mind. But Tony settled and slept on, and Gibbs still couldn't bring himself to remove his hand.

 

 **end**


End file.
